"God and I are in a stalemate.
We both want to forgive the other (or so we say),
but we're waiting to be asked first."

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

The torches flickered softly along the stone walls of the narrow corridor leading to Helaena Targaryen's new chambers, casting dancing shadows that seemed to mimic the uncertainty swirling within her heart. The weight of her responsibilities pressed down on her like the closing of a tomb over her head as she walked, her strides measured yet burdened by the constant reminder of what she had been made accomplice in. 

She blamed her trepidation on the fact that she was not yet accustomed to her new chambers. As the Queen, she had been moved to her mother's old rooms, and although she had spent many an hour there during her pitifully short life, it still felt strange to call them hers. To wear the crown her mother did, and bear the burdens that came with it. 

With her three children trailing behind her, their footsteps echoing faintly in the silent halls of the Red Keep, Helaena couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled in the pit of her stomach. She glanced down at Jaehaerys, whose hand clutched hers tightly, his wide violet eyes darting nervously around the dimly lit corridor. A soft whimper escaped his lips, drawing a gentle sigh from his mother's lips.

He was a quiet and anxious child, prone to fits of melancholy and nightmares, in the way she herself had once been. She supposed children were the inheritors of their parents' burdens and if her son were to inherit anything, better to inherit her pain, than his father's tendency to inflict it upon others. Jaehaerys refused to be apart from her, clinging to her side no matter where she went, and bursting into tears at the slightest indication of separation. 

"Be quiet," his sister Jaehaera snapped to him. "You're going to worry Mother again."

Helaena shook her head, crouching down to their level and placing her hand on her son's shoulder, "What's troubling you, my sweet?" 

Jaehaerys shook his head, his lower lip trembling as he clung to his mother's hand with an almost desperate grip. Helaena's heart ached at the sight, a pang of guilt twisting within her chest as she wondered what could have possibly unsettled her son so deeply, but if he gave her no response, how was she to ever know? 

With a sigh, she rose to her feet once more, her hand still firmly clasped in Jaehaerys's as she continued down the corridor. As they approached the ornate wooden door to the Queen's chambers, she noticed that it was slightly ajar, but the familiar sliver of warm light did not spill out into the darkness of the hallway beyond.

A flicker of uncertainty stirred within Helaena's chest as she hesitated a few steps before the threshold, her gaze lingering on the door with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity. Had her mother come to visit her, as she often did in the quiet hours of the evening. It seemed that Alicent was not accustomed to her new quarters either, and so she found herself returning to the Queen's chambers fairly often. 

Beside her, Jaehaerys's grip tightened even further, his small fingers digging into her own with a silent plea for reassurance. With a soft sigh, Helaena squeezed his hand gently, offering him what comfort she could.

"It is just your grandmother," she muttered. 

At the mention of their grandmother, Jaehaera grinned, taking her youngest brother by the hand and racing forward, eager to see the much-cherished woman. 

With a steady breath, Helaena pushed the door open fully, revealing the glow of the moonlight that bathed the room in a harsh, frigid hue. The familiar sight of the chambers greeted her, yet, despite the familiarity of it all, there was a palpable sense of tension hanging in the air, as if the very walls themselves were holding their breath.

As Helaena stepped into the room, her children trailing behind her like loyal shadows, she felt a knot of apprehension tighten in her chest. There was something amiss here, something that she couldn't quite put her finger on, and as her gaze swept over the room, taking in every minute detail with a keen eye, she couldn't shake the feeling that they were not alone.

"Mother?" Helaena called out softly. 

Then the door slammed shut behind her, the sound reverberating through the room like a death knell, and Helaena's heart leaped into her throat. A wave of fear washed over her, icy tendrils creeping up her spine as she whirled around to face the source of the noise, her eyes widening in terror as she beheld the scene before her.

Alicent's bound and gagged form lay sprawled on the floor, her eyes wide with shock and fear as she struggled against her restraints. Beside her, the lifeless body of her bedmaid lay sprawled, neck bent at an unnatural angle, and a cry of horror caught in Helaena's throat as she took in the sight, her mind reeling with disbelief at the sheer brutality of it all.

She almost whimpered for her mother, but the sound wouldn't leave her throat. Such was the instinct of a child, to call out for one's mother. 

It was happening. It was happening and there was nothing she could do about it. 

Then, as if from nowhere, two figures emerged from the shadows, their faces twisted into cruel masks of malice as they advanced upon her with predatory grace. The larger of the two, a brutish man with a savage gleam in his eyes, wrenched Jaehaerys from her, her little boy letting out a pitiful keening wail as his hand left the familiar warmth of his mother's. 

"Mama!"

It was universal then, the urge to call out for one's mother, no matter how old one was. 

The man tightened his grip, his fingers digging into Jaehaerys's small frame with brutal force. The boy's wails grew louder, his face contorted with fear as tears streamed down his cheeks, and then his cries were muffled by the large beefy hand that stifled them.

Meanwhile, the narrower of the two intruders seized hold of Maelor, the infant prince cradled in his arms like a fragile doll. A dagger gleamed in his hand, its blade pressed against the soft flesh of Maelor's throat, and Helaena swallowed the wave of bile that rose in her throat. 

"Scream and you all die!" the narrow man hissed, and Helaena pressed her lips together tightly. 

Jaehaera cowered behind her, trembling so violently that she might have flown apart at the seams were it humanly possible. 

"Who are you?" Helaena demanded, trying her best to appear calm, when she felt anything but. 

"Debt collectors."

Oh. 

The sins of her brothers had come back to haunt her. She knew it was coming. She had known it for a very long time, and yet she was unable to muster the detached resignation with which she approached most things. She had known she was to be married to Aegon, and she bore it quietly, just as she bore his nightly visits when he was drunk and barely coherent. She bore his children, just as dutifully, but this she could not bear. 

They were her children. Formed from her own flesh and blood, brought into this world screaming, their voices echoing her own, all of them children even as she herself was a mere child. 

"An eye for an eye and a son for a son. We're here for one of your sons, Your Grace," Maelor's captor continued.

Please.

She didn't know what she was begging for. One never really knew. She had begged all her life for things she never received. What a pathetically naive thing to think that her prayers would be answered now. How did the gods choose anyway? How did they choose which prayers to refuse, which supplicant to ignore entirely, no matter how dutifully they pleaded?

Was one allowed to be angry at the gods?

If anyone had the right, it was Helaena Targaryen.  

"We only want one," the man prompted again. "'Tis a fair trade. Won't hurt the rest of you fine folks, not one lil' hair. Which one do you want to lose, Your Grace?" 

Which one did she—

Oh. 

They were giving her a choice. A sick and twisted choice, but a choice nonetheless, one her half-sister hadn't gotten. Justice for the boy her brother had mercilessly murdered before he even had a chance to beg for his life. This was revenge. 

This is what broke Helaena, and she fell to her knees with a wail. Another pathetic petitioner at the altar of a god who would never listen. She clasped her hands in front of her, beseeching, begging, just as her mother had taught her, during the rare instance she managed to convince Helaena to accompany her to the Sept. 

This is how you pray. This is how they listen. 

Her mother was a liar. Helaena had always known her mother to be a liar, but tonight, for once in her life, when she wanted her not to be, her words proved false once more. 

"Take me instead," she stammered, the tears clogging her throat, and then the words rushed out of her in a torrent.  "Please don't hurt my children. Please, please, please, not my children."

"A wife's not a son, Your Grace. It has to be one of your boys."

"Please. Please I am begging you, take me instead, not my sons. I'll-I'll do anything...anything...please."

"One. One son, for the one you took."

I took nothing. I have never taken anything from anyone, ever. Please. Please. Please.

Helaena wanted to scream, she wanted to wail, she wanted to die. Die so that her sons might live. 

" 'Tis a generous offer, so you better hurry up and choose, lest my companion gets bored and has his way with your little girl," the thin man sneered, his hungry eyes raking over Jaehaera's minuscule form in a way that made Helaena sick. 

Helaena made a strangled choking sound. Not her little girl too. Her child of laughter and joy. Her child of the sun. 

"Please," she murmured again. "Please, they are my sons. Let them go, please, let them go."

"Make a choice."

Helaena's hope blew out like a candle in a storm, and she bowed her head, prostrating before them now, her forehead to the ground, her tears enough to spring forth a river. Then, in a voice as quiet as death itself, she named her youngest, Maelor. 

She didn't know why she did it. Perhaps, because Jaehaerys was her first, and most like her. He could not stand to be away from her for even a moment, so how would he bear the afterlife without her hand in his to lead the way? He would be lost without her. Perhaps because in some sense, she was still serving her family, as she had always done, and Jaehaerys was Aegon's heir. 

"You hear that, littleboy?" Maelor's captor whispered into the infant's ear. "Your momma wants you dead."

No. No. No. 

I could never want you dead. 

"Mama," Jaehaerys whimpered pitifully from behind the meaty hand that covered his mouth, but it was a pitiful consolation, that he'd live another day to call her that while his brother paid the price for her sins. 

Still, perhaps she had changed his fate. 

Then the man who had spoken gave his broad companion a grin, and the hulking swordsman slew Jaehaerys, striking off the little boy's head with a single blow. 

A scream ripped through Helaena's throat before she even knew what was happening, a sound she wasn't even aware she was capable of making. It raked the soft insides of her throat with sharp talons and tore off strips of flesh, leaving deep furrows that ran red with blood. She could taste it on her tongue, taste it on her lips. She could taste it as surely as she saw the blood. 

Her boy. Her firstborn. His little head rolled to a stop by her where she knelt, his pale hair speckled with blood as they brushed against her fingers. His captor dropped his limp body and it crashed to the ground soundlessly. Such a small thing, such a quiet thing, even in death. 

Snow stained sanguine.

The dreadful pigment that had stained her consciousness for so long finally painted her world in vivid reality. It was everywhere, pooling, reaching, spreading toward her like an accusation. It coated her fingers, painting her son, painting her, soaking into their skin until they were one in a way they hadn't been since the day he had entered the world. 

Mother and son. 

Red. Red. Red.

Shrouds of red and vermin stained black.

Prince Jaehaerys of the Seven Kingdoms, he used to be, her little boy, heir to a throne that would never belong to him.

The tears burned like vinegar as they ran down her cheeks. She was still screaming. 

Too many had an appetite for royal blood.

They had drained him dry. They had drained her dry. 

True to their word, the murderers did no further harm, fleeing the room taking the young prince's head along with them, prying it from his mother's shaking hands, wrenching him from her once again. 

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Aemond Targaryen soared through the night sky with Vhagar, the wind rushing past him as he guided the beast through the blackness. The stars above twinkled like distant candles in the vast expanse of the heavens, casting a serene glow upon the world below, but the one-eyed prince's mind was troubled, his thoughts heavy with the burden of guilt that had weighed upon him for days.

He had been avoiding his sister, lately, consumed by the demands of his own duties and the exhilaration of his nightly flights, but tonight, as he flew over the Red Keep, he felt a sudden pang of remorse. He missed her and he was determined to make amends.  

He landed in the courtyard and dismounted, making his way to Helaena's chambers, reminding himself that she was in the Queen's quarters now. As he traversed the hallway that led to his destination, he heard the piercing sound of screams echoing through the stillness of the night. His blood ran cold as he recognized the voice, and without a moment's hesitation, he sprinted toward the source of the commotion, his mind racing. 

The polished wooden door gleamed in the dim torchlight, but when he tried to push it open, it refused to budge. He slammed his shoulder against the unyielding surface, the force of his desperation driving him forward. Again and again, he threw himself against the solid wood, his muscles straining with the effort, until finally, with a resounding crack, the door burst open.

There, in the center of the room, Aemond Targaryen was met with a sight that would haunt him for the rest of his days.

It was the smell that assaulted his senses first, heavy and pungent. Blood. 

Everywhere he looked, painted crimson. 

Helaena was crouched on the floor, her pale locks almost silver in the moonlight, matted with blood and sweat, her eyes wide with terror as she cradled the lifeless body of her son in her arms. Blood stained her dress, carmine rivulets running down her trembling fingers as she rocked back and forth, her anguished wails filling the room.

For one terrible moment, Aemond stood frozen in shock, the scene before him a grotesque tableau of pain and despair. Then he was rushing toward his sister, ignorant to the other occupants of the room. Behind him, the open door allowed Helaena's anguish to reach the other inhabitants of the castle and a stream of guards followed by Ser Criston Cole streamed in. 

In the shadows, Jaehaera, stood huddled together with Maelor, their small forms trembling with fear as they witnessed the horror unfolding before them silently. 

None of that mattered to the one-eyed prince though, his only priority being his sister. His nephew's blood squelched beneath his boots and coated his knees as he knelt beside Helaena, trying to gather her trembling form into his arms. 

"I'm here, Hel. I'm here."

Helaena slapped his outstretched hand, shoving him away with a strength born of grief and rage. Her cries pierced the air, a cacophony of anguish that threatened to drown out all reason. "Don't touch me! Don't touch me!" she screamed, her voice raw with pain. "Don't touch me!"

Aemond's eyes fell upon his nephew's lifeless form, the absence of his head a grotesque wound upon the innocence of the child. Nausea churned in his gut as he stumbled back, the sight threatening to overwhelm him. He reached out a trembling hand, his fingers brushing against the cold flesh of the boy's fingers. 

"You killed him!" Helaena shrieked, her voice a dagger to his soul. "You killed my son! You killed him!"

Aemond's world crumbled around him as her words echoed in his mind, accusations that pierced him deeper than any physical wound. He felt as though he were drowning in a sea of guilt and despair, the weight of Helaena's accusation crushing him beneath its unbearable burden.

"I-I didn't mean to," he stammered, his voice barely a whisper amidst the chaos of her screams. "I would never... Hel, please, I'm sorry...I'm sorry..."

His words fell on deaf ears, Helaena's grief a storm that raged unchecked, consuming everything in its path, and as she continued to wail, Aemond felt a darkness descend upon him, a suffocating sense of helplessness that threatened to engulf him whole.

Behind them, Ser Criston moved with swift efficiency, freeing Alicent from her restraints and helping her to her feet. Her were wide with shock and disbelief, tears streaming down her cheeks as she surveyed the scene before her, and then, with a venomous intensity that made Aemond's blood run cold, she spoke.

"It was Rhaenyra," she spat, her voice laced with bitterness and hatred. "She did this."

Aemond felt his muscles tense, his hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of his sword. Anger surged within him like a raging inferno, consuming his thoughts with its fiery intensity. Without a word, he rose to his feet, his movements slow and deliberate. His rage was a coil, wound tight inside of him, but when it snapped, he would rain fire and blood upon all those responsible. 

His gaze met his mother's, a silent exchange of understanding passing between them. Alicent approached him cautiously, placing her hand on his forearms. 

"You see what she is capable of," she beseeched. "You see what that woman will do to your family. To your sister and her children. They are innocent. Jaehaerys was innocent, and Rhaenyra had him murdered. Do you see her for her cruelty now?"

Aemond nodded stiffly, unable to meet her eyes. 

"You know now what you must do," Alicent hissed. "Even if it means wringing the life from your own wife's throat. This is who they are, who they will always be. Vicious and cruel."

Helaena was still screaming, her pain a constant backdrop to their conversation. 

There was nothing for the one-eyed prince to do but agree. If there was anything left between him and Daenys, this was the final act that severed it. There was no going back, not after all that had happened, and if she was to die, she would die by his hand and no one else's. That would be his last mercy to her, or perhaps it was a mercy to himself. One last thing he would take from her, one final way he'd have her all to himself. 

Then, with a sense of grim determination, he turned towards the door, his mind aflame with a single purpose. He would find the ones who did this and make them pay. He would make them bleed, and then when he was done with them, he would find his whore of a half-sister. 

He would save his wife for last, but when the time came, he would end her too, even if it meant facing the darkest depths of his own soul. He owed Helaena this much. He owed the innocent little boy who lay dead in his mother's arms this much. 

For the sake of his family, for the sake of his nephew's memory, he would not rest until he exacted vengeance upon every single one of the Blacks. With this silent vow etched upon his heart, Aemond Targaryen stepped out into the night, his destiny intertwined inexplicably with the fate of those he loved most.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

A/N: we're back folks, so sorry for the delay. This was a harder chapter to write and I literally started 3 other fics just to avoid writing it lol but we're finally done. 

Also some housekeeping. I was thinking about wrapping the story up soon (not soon rlly lol we still have a lot to cover) but I see no point in including the whole stretch of the war cuz I'm assuming most of yall are here for Aemond and Daenys lol and they probably won't have too many interactions since they're on opp sides of a war now. The divorce era going hard rip. So yeah, I probably won't do a lot of the side war shenanigans that happened unless it directly involves them tbh (unless yall would be into that? idk lemme know). Cuz i rlly do wanna finish this story ASAP (before season 2 airs) so i can work on my other Aemond fic lmfao. 

As usual, don't be a ghost reader. I live for yalls comments/questions/concerns/reactions, even a keyboard smash is highly appreciated and encouraged!